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Xie Lian feels ill at ease.
It’s one of those days where he wakes up knowing that there’s something wrong. In the night, he had tossed and turned in fitful sleep. In the morning, he staggers about the bathroom, avoiding his reflection in the mirror. He knows that, if he were to look at it, then he would feel confused as to who he would be looking at. The flickering light shines brightly overhead and when the water hits his face, he feels the need to slip back into his slumber, right where he stands.
In his closet, he picks out the loosest clothes, the ones that dwarf his frame but make him feel shapeless and unrestricted. They’re worn through and soft. Relief floods through his bones, but it’s brief and fleeting, and after another moment or two, Xie Lian feels heavy again. He wants nothing more but to crawl back under the covers, away from the eyes of the world.
But class will start soon. Xie Lian rubs at his chest before tugging on another layer, willing himself to be okay. He knows what's coming. He'll live through it just fine.
The lessons pass by him in a haze-like state, but he keeps up appearances well enough, he thinks. Barely anyone speaks to him. He speaks to no one. Maybe he’s lucky, or maybe he looks more upset than he thinks he does.
By midday, irritation starts to crawl up his throat. Though Xie Lian has barely said anything more than necessary, has barely done anything of note, he feels like people have been staring at him. A thousand eyes bore onto his back, unblinking. It makes his skin crawl with invisible ants. He feels unclean. Sweaty.
Lunch goes uneaten. The rice and eggs he had so neatly prepared the night before—burnt as they are—never make it to his mouth. One part of him mourns the waste, but the majority of him shrinks like his stomach, coiling in and in and in. A dreadful ache makes itself known in its place.
He feels like he's on tightrope, using up all his concentration to stay still and balanced. Not moving forward, and not moving back, but teetering all the same.
His chest aches from within, like his rib-bones have suddenly manifested the ability to feel pain from the marrow out. The flesh there hurts too, but that pain is easy to ignore with the layers that cover him. A burdensome weight lays on the slopes of his shoulders, tugging and pushing him down.
His head is buzzing with noise, too. A quiet sound from the other side of the classroom would make his fingers tense and tighten around his pencil, fist clenched atop incomprehensible notes. He's tired. He wants to lay down, be horizontal, and melt into a flat and soft surface. He wants to bury himself into a cool scent and be done with the day. He wants the next one to start so he can feel well again.
After long hours, Xie Lian finally makes it back to his room. This year, he had gotten lucky with a single dorm and bathroom all to himself. Perhaps all his luck had been wasted on that.
His eyes had been bleary all afternoon, and his body had been aching with a phantom pain. It takes him a while to notice that the light switch is already flicked upward, before his fingers have even hit it. It takes him even longer to notice that there's a red-clothed figure sitting on his bed.
"Sorry," Xie Lian says, but his voice comes out so quiet, like a whisper. "Must have the wrong room." Even though that's impossible.
He starts to tread backwards, lugging his bag back up over his shoulder. It had already slipped down, nearly off his hand before he knew it. Routine had led him to drop it at the door whenever he returned.
"Gege," a familiar voice says. Addresses him. He hasn't been spoken to for any reason other than politeness or necessity all day. Xie Lian tenses. The furrow in his brows, the one that's formed in the morning and never left, deepens.
At the very least, it's a small comfort that the person in his room is San Lang. He always manages to soothe Xie Lian, but the latter has yet to test it out in a situation like this. He's not sure if he wants to.
When he finishes processing that he does have the right room after all, irritation still lingers in his gut. It's not directed at San Lang, but Xie Lian feels guilty all the same.
"Are you okay? Did you forget we had a study date today?" San Lang asks. His voice is quiet as well, matching Xie Lian's earlier volume. He's perceptive like that.
On a different day, Xie Lian would have focused too deeply on the word “date.” However, even more guilt gnaws on him instead. Of course. They had texted each other about it the night before, but he had forgotten. If he had remembered, then he would have messaged San Lang this morning—to say that he would rather have it tomorrow.
It's too late now. San Lang has come all this way, and made the time in his similarly busy college life to spend time with Xie Lian. They study in different fields so their paths don't cross that much naturally. San Lang had only met him by chance. By luck.
Xie Lian steels himself. He needs to make sense of his notes now anyway, before he sleeps it all off and forgets. He won't turn San Lang away.
"I'm okay. I was just feeling off. Did I keep you waiting?"
San Lang cocks a single eyebrow upwards. It's arched and thick, plucked to perfection. San Lang has nice eyebrows. They suit the angles of his face, the cut of his jaw. Xie Lian thinks they're very intense. Everything about San Lang seems intense.
"Gege could have me wait for as long as he wants."
Xie Lian's frown deepens. It makes him realize that it's there at all. Has he smiled today? He tries his best to smooth out the lines of his face to be less severe. There's no telling if it works.
"But did you wait long?"
San Lang grins easily. "No. I've only been here for a few minutes."
"That's good," Xie Lian mutters. His voice has gone quiet again. The feelings inside him are bubbling in his stomach, trying to digest themselves. His grip on his bag goes bone-white. He didn't set it down even when he had realized he wasn’t mistaken.
"Gege?" San Lang is concerned. Normally, Xie Lian would warm at the sound of his voice alone, but today is different. Today is off.
He flinches.
"Could you—could you not call me in that way? I don't, San Lang, I don't...feel like I should be called that right now."
"Sure." San Lang chirps. "Do you want me to call you by something different?"
Xie Lian's eyes widen. Urgency moves through him like a flash of lightning. He waves his hands in protest. The bag goes down in the process, forgotten. "No! No. I just…"
He doesn't want to be called anything else but that. But at the same time, that word doesn't feel right for his state of being. Xie Lian doesn't have the courage to say it. The words feel frozen in his mouth, like candy that's gotten stuck in the vending machine. Out of reach. Almost there until something shakes it.
San Lang's smile is different now. It's still easygoing, but softened around the edges. Patient. No teasing.
His posture is open as he lounges on Xie Lian's small dormitory-issued cot. He looks so relaxed and confident, with the upright way he holds himself. He's like a lazy tiger who watches over the rest of the animals, perched atop a high rock in the cool shade.
Xie Lian takes a moment too late to come up with a response that makes sense. Nausea hits him suddenly, and he can feel himself teetering. Or is the room that decided to spin?
Xie Lian grits his teeth against the ache that spreads further in his gut. His muscles clench and unclench, and his breathing becomes shallow. The bathroom. He needs to go to the bathroom.
He picks his bag back up and gingerly walks inside, ignoring the way San Lang stares at him.
When he comes out, Xie Lian doesn't feel any better. The ache is still there. The nausea is still there. A headache, a headache is soon to be there.
And San Lang. San Lang is still there, on Xie Lian's bed.
He had forgotten about him, again. Xie Lian winces, both in pain and at himself. He doesn't know if San Lang heard anything. Xie Lian has a habit of turning on the tap when he can, so he's unsure if the sound of the wrapper was quiet enough to go unnoticed.
San Lang looks up at him. He should say something, but the words don't make their way forward. He's sure he looks a mess now, with the throb of pain clear on his face. Xie Lian wants to lay down and curl up, to doze.
San Lang scoots over on the bed, inching towards the wall that it's pressed up against. He pats the empty space. Xie Lian hesitates for a moment, but he really would rather lay down, so he drops the bag at the foot of his bed and climbs on. So much for studying, he thinks.
He tries sitting at first, still too nauseated to position his body to lay down just yet. San Lang, behind him, asks, "Can I touch you?"
Xie Lian hums in response and nods. He feels arms creep around his middle then, and tenses. San Lang moves forward a bit more, but jostles the other in the process.
For the second time, Xie Lian's eyes widen. He coughs once, twice, and then gags. He heaves with effort, chest spiking with pain. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. His face burns with embarrassment.
Nothing comes up. He sighs in relief, breathing hard. His vision has become unfocused, and when he comes to, he feels a soothing hand rubbing up and down his spine, warm even through the layers of his clothing. San Lang is whispering something, but Xie Lian is too focused on his own body to entirely hear what he says. He’s grateful all the same.
"San Lang," Xie Lian calls, after a while. "Could you get the bottle inside the nightstand?
He closes his eyes and tries to drift his mind away from his body. Xie Lian has unconsciously wrapped his arms around his waist, hoping to soothe the ache. He feels hot all over, and yet he wants nothing but to throw a blanket over himself and hide.
San Lang climbs off the cot. Xie Lian's weight shifts, and he tries not to wince. San Lang returns again, dipping into the bed, and that time, Xie Lian definitely makes a face before opening his eyes.
A water bottle rests in one of San Lang's hands, and in the other is what Xie Lian had asked for. Quickly, he takes both with a quiet thanks.
After downing half the bottle of water, Xie Lian lays down. San Lang takes the bottle from him and sets it to the side, but still within reach. Xie Lian fights the urge to cry. He feels so miserable, and ruined their plans because he didn't think ahead.
He hasn't looked at San Lang's face since he came out of the bathroom. He wonders if he is upset with him. Xie Lian doesn't have the heart to ask. Or say much at all, really.
"Can I lay here?" Xie Lian nods. He's laying on his side, curled up like a shrimp. He's already hugging a pillow between his legs, holding it tight as if it's the only barrel of water in a vast desert.
This time, when San Lang moves, he's much slower and more careful. Xie Lian feels his body rest behind him.
"Can I hold you?" Xie Lian nods again. An arm wraps itself around his waist, and his pillow. Xie Lian feels himself being pressed against a flat chest.
A few minutes pass, and Xie Lian's breathing begins to slow. The aches start to subside, and drowsiness follows. His eyes slip closed, and he promises himself that it would just be for a little while…
When he wakes up, San Lang is still holding him. A blanket is tossed over the both of them, including the pillow that he still hugs. Xie Lian makes a small noise and shifts. San Lang moves easily with him. The light’s been turned off while he slept, and it makes him think that he had been out for far longer than he meant to.
"Awake?"
"Mhm."
A pale hand moves to rub up and down his arm. It's soothing, and nice to have something to focus on. His headache is gone, and the pain in his abdomen has reduced to a duller and more manageable discomfort. Xie Lian sighs in content and gives himself several seconds. Then he pulls himself out of San Lang's arms and heads inside the bathroom once more.
When he emerges, San Lang is looking at him with an open expression. Xie Lian slumps. It seems San Lang really could comfort him in this as well, but Xie Lian still feels….things about it.
He goes to lay down again. He slots himself back into the space between San Lang's arms, pouting as he does so. It's not a true frown anymore, at the very least. The feeling from this morning is still there, but more muted. He still feels too big for his skin.
This time, Xie Lian faces San Lang. It doesn't look like the latter had napped with him, from how alert he still seems. Xie Lian looks downward, unsure of how to react to the fact that San Lang had been seemingly content to just hold him there like that.
Instead, he musters up the force needed to say: "Thank you, San Lang."
San Lang smiles at him again, eyes forming into crescents. Xie Lian feels warmth flood through him simply from seeing that smile aimed toward him.
He still should explain. He feels the need to.
"San Lang, about earlier…" Xie Lian starts.
"You don't have to say anything you aren't comfortable with," San Lang reminds. Xie Lian nods at him gratefully, but continues.
"Before...ah, I guess, if San Lang knew me in childhood, then he would have called me—'jiejie.'" It takes some effort to say. But he did it. Xie Lian gulps, searching Hua Cheng's expression.
When he doesn't respond, Xie Lian takes it as a sign to keep going. No reaction is better than a bad reaction. "Sometimes, I do feel like the idea of a 'jiejie,' but I...I would prefer it if you still called me as 'gege.' Earlier, earlier I was—feeling—bad. Bad about myself. So I…"
He trails off, unsure. Xie Lian has never really said any of it out loud before. Before, he once had other friends to explain to, but now, he doesn't have much.
"Okay." A simple answer from San Lang. Xie Lian blinks. In San Lang's face is open acceptance.
"Gege," He whispers after a pause. "Could I show you something too?"
"Mhm. San Lang can show me."
The other sits up, and Xie Lian rises with him, curious. His heart is elated after San Lang's easy reaction, and begins to soar even higher at the promise of something revealed from San Lang's side. A show of trust.
San Lang reaches for the edge of his own red shirt, and brings it up before Xie Lian can protest.
A binder. San Lang is wearing a binder.
For a third time, Xie Lian's eyes widen. He looks at San Lang's chest, and then at his face. San Lang's smile has grown with glee, like he had been handed an extra cookie from the jar. His eyes are sparkling.
"You're…?"
"Mhm."
The shirt goes down. Xie Lian feels the urge to laugh, and gives in. Within seconds, the both of them are giggling to the point of tears.
Xie Lian wipes them away with a smile. It feels like it's the hardest he's laughed in his entire life.
When the giggles wear off, San Lang offers: "If gege ever wants one too, he can ask me."
They're both laying down again, slotted together like the first instance. Except this time, Xie Lian's legs aren't hugging his pillow but entangled with San Lang's. Their fingers are intertwined. Xie Lian brings them to his nose and rubs it against the knobs of his and San Lang's knuckles.
He dares himself to press a kiss against one of San Lang's fingers. San Lang huffs a breath against his ear. Xie Lian can feel him still smiling, even though he can’t see it.
"I think I'm okay. But thank you."
"Next time, I hope that gege knows he can come to San Lang now, for comfort. You can tell me about it—about how you feel.
"I do now."
"Mhm. I'll be with you every step of the way."